


06/09/18

by silurica



Series: Look to Love, Always [6]
Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28253154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silurica/pseuds/silurica
Summary: Quick, bite-sized pieces. Prompts fromthis post.
Series: Look to Love, Always [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068755





	06/09/18

**“Promise”  
**

I remember when I made a promise, long, long ago. I promised to him that da and ma will come home someday, that all five of us will be together again. And if they don’t, I will go and find them on my own. I don’t think he believed me - for good reason - but he smiled to my empty words, all while in the pain of his illness. "I’m happy enough to have you here,” he said, “You and brother are my everything.” Gentle, pained words. “We will always be together, right?” I reassured him, I love my family more than anything else, no treasure can buy the happiness we share. He smiled again before drifting into sleep.

Ah… so who was it that broke their promise first?

_\- Meika Osborne_

* * *

**“Death”  
**

There was once a time when he didn’t fear death. What changed? No, perhaps nothing has changed. Death has always been inevitable, a natural part of life. Isn’t it stranger that he fears it _here_ , where death is temporary? Or is it not death itself that he fears, but the agony that comes with it? Perhaps, perhaps. Like when his wife smiles, even when she is clearly hurt. Or when his son pains, but closes himself. Perhaps that was it.

_\- Jonathan Osborne_

* * *

**“Epiphany”**

This is… oh, another dream of dark water. He will speak to me again, and I will do as he asks. The moon shines above, mutely, at the center of a circular frame. …Perhaps this isn’t the usual dream. Then what am I supposed to do here, if it’s not?

“Don’t you want to get out from here?”

That was my voice - or rather, the voice of my reflection on the water. I ask back, “Why should I?”

“I don’t know. Don’t you want to be something else, unchained by your role?”

“Isn’t what I do now enough?”

Before he could give an answer, rain began pouring down to obscure his presence.

Role. I’m here to bring the Reckoning. I swore to. For the Drowned Man. For those betrayed. For Father. Isn’t that enough? He will guide me, just like Father did, and… ah. Ah. Is that it? Are you saying that I’m no more than a pawn, merely following orders? But what if I chose this role? Still feeling clever, you cheeky piece of imagery? I may be another piece on the board, but I will be a King if that is what it takes to achieve what he asked me. Yes. Yes. A reckoning shall not be postponed indefinitely. Not again. It shall come. It -

**“End”**

For him, when he desires something, he will do everything to get it. This isn’t any different from any other time. When there is no more deception and betrayals in the world, it surely will be a better place. Firstly, those who commit those sins have to be punished. It will be an end, so to speak. The Cheesemonger failed. He will not. He decided so. _But haven’t you committed those too?_ He heard a tiny voice inside him asking. _Do they truly deserve this?_ Yes and yes. So what? He thought of bringing an end to himself too, once, but that won’t be enough. Father would be disappointed, so he thought. Such an end doesn’t suit him. But now he has found another way to execute it, he will _not_ fail. Again. He refuses to. He _will_ succeed this time.

_\- Leonard West_

* * *

**“Love”**

Love. He once envied those who have it. Those able to love and to be loved. He watched families, couples, poets, all lost in its light. It was a stark contrast from his life in the streets, a life where he had to put himself before others to survive, even if it meant he had to kill and steal. He wondered, _what can my little self do to be loved as well?_ He thought and thought, and arrived at a conclusion: _maybe if our bellies are full and we are all happy, everyone could love each other, and I will find one too…_ That was before he met that young man, vulnerable yet passionate. That darling young man, delicate yet firm. Indeed, that young man then gave him shelter and food. He is happy now. This is love, isn’t it? Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone could have a chance like this? Ah, but these hands only know how to take things away… Still, he will do what he can with what he has.

_\- Wren_

* * *

**“Laugh”**

If someone were to ask why he loves his partner, the Languid Flautist’s answer would be because of what a huge dummy he is. He remembers when he just returned from a forced trip to the tomb colonies, penniless and jobless. His partner, noticing this, decided to take him up to the Flit. Now, watching the lights of the city from above sure sounds romantic, but him? The _Languid_ Flautist? Climbing the roofs? Not the most promising prospect to ever exist. Oh, but his partner was eager, and in his eagerness, he somehow slipped and stumbled down more often than the Flautist. Ah, dear, look at how your cheek is bleeding… But his partner just shook his head with a laugh and grabbed the Flautist’s hand, climbing up again. _He really needs to take better care of himself_ , so the Flautist thought, but he couldn’t help but find that smile endearing. It filled him with warmth for the rest of the night.

The view, indeed, was beautiful.

_\- Robin Blackwood_


End file.
